Deadwood Tales
by Jantallian
Summary: They call it 'Deadwood' but parts of it are very much alive. There are many paths through this wood, but not all of them are safe. Especially when the dark comes down. Three short tales for Halloween.
1. Chapter 1

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**Deadwood Tales**

Jantallian

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Before reading

These are three short stories, not one continuous one, and each chapter is complete in itself. The action takes place as if _Ladies Day _had never happened, Jonesy still rules in the kitchen and Andy and Mike have become brothers by adoption.

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**On the borders**

'To tell the Oak or Maple in the dark,

to recognize their songs in wind or rain,

before I knew their names by leaf or bark.'

_Eyes and ears_, W. H. Davies

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The very border of Deadwood, like a tongue, licked the edge of the road. Deadwood by name, or so the humans called it, but no wood is dead – it lives even on the fire until nothing remains but ash. Sometimes the wood gives itself up, a living sacrifice to the need for heat and light. Sometimes the wood is not so minded.

The woodpile lay on the fringe of the forest itself, close to the roots of the trees. It was just the right size – not too big and impossible to disentangle, not so small that it was not worth the trouble of collecting. The fallen branches were just the right length for manhandling without cutting. They were big enough to make a decent log when they were cut, but not so wide that they would be too heavy to shift. In fact the pile was exactly right for anyone who wanted fuel for their winter store.

Gathering wood was automatic for Andy Sherman and Mike Williams: it was a continual task throughout the year, but intensified as winter drew near. No opportunity was to be missed, wherever they were. They'd been entrusted with the delivery of some wagon parts and tools Slim had mended for the next relay station and now they were on their way home with an empty wagon. An empty wagon and a fortuitous pile of logs could have only one result. Andy pulled the wagon to a halt and hitched up the reins to keep the team at a standstill.

"Look at that!" He was already off the wagon and halfway to the pile before Mike had jumped to race after him. They were both delighted to find such bounty without the trouble of having to cut and haul it. No-one owned this land and although the logs were so convenient in size and shape they showed no signs of having been felled or sawn. Rather they seemed to have fallen and rolled together into this heap through time and chance. It did not occur to the boys in their excitement that they had not spotted it on their journey out.

First off they both began dragging logs down to the wagon, but soon this proved too disorganized for quick loading.

"You get on the wagon, Mike, and I'll heave them up to you. Then you can stack them sensibly in the back."

"OK." Mike scrambled up and followed these instructions, making sure that as far as possible the logs were stowed in a way which would be easy to unload too. He'd learnt the hard way that quick and careless loading meant a lot more work later.

"Just a few to fetch," Andy told him presently, "then we've got the lot. Slim 'n Jess are gonna be mighty surprised at what we've found."

"Sure will. I bet they'd never guess we could handle so much!" Mike agreed proudly.

"Grab this one then," Andy grunted, heaving a log up high enough for the younger boy to reach with both hands.

"It moved!" Mike exclaimed in horror as he took it. "Andy, it moved in my hands!"

Andy looked disconcerted for a moment, then he shrugged and said sensibly, "It's probably just slippery. It's one of the bare ones, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Mike said doubtfully as he dubiously laid the log down with the rest. He rubbed his hands on his pants, disliking what he had felt a moment earlier. Andy was right, though – the last few of the logs had obviously been lying around a long time, for they had lost their bark and were pale and smooth as polished bone. Mike wished he had not thought of such a comparison.

"Come on, stop daydreaming!" Andy was back with another couple of branches.

Daydreaming! It felt more like a nightmare and the harder Mike tried not to think about it, the more persistent the revulsion and fear he had felt became. Now Andy was handing up the very last log, another of those naked ones.

Mike took the log gingerly, sensing with his fingers as much as seeing with his eyes. There was the bare outline of a form, hardly visible in the wood – the shape of a knee joint and the curve of a calf and –

"Andy, there's a toe! Look, here, at the end. It's shaped like a toe."

Andy peered closely at the timber. "It does look a bit that way, Mike, but it's just a knot in the wood. It's formed a little bump just like a human toe."

"It is a toe!" Mike insisted.

"Look, Mike – it can't be a real toe, not in a log of wood. Just put it with the rest."

With that Andy hastened to unhitch the team and jumped up into the driving seat. He didn't even wait for Mike to join him as he urged them back onto the road and the way home. Mike didn't mind very much. He and Andy got on well, but sometimes he liked not just being the little brother. Riding on top of the log pile, the bounty they had managed to salvage all on their own – riding up there, he was for once king of his own castle.

The wagon bowled along merrily at a good pace and it would not be long before they came to the last haul up to the ridge above the relay station. Mike looked down at the log with the toe. It was stupid, but he could swear that the thing was shaped like a pair of legs. He watched it uneasily as the wagon jolted and the log bounced. But sometimes it surely shifted of its own accord, when the wagon was running smoothly?

The more Mike watched it, the less he liked it. He didn't want it anywhere near his home, the place where he felt safe and secure after the traumatic experiences his younger self had undergone. There was nothing threatening about a wooden log, he told himself. But he didn't believe it. And he could not imagine what would happen if you took a saw to that log or an axe split it open.

At last he could bear it no longer. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Andy was concentrating on the team, not bothering about the load, because Mike was there to take care of it. Well, he would!

Gritting his teeth against what he would feel, Mike braced himself to pick up the log and heave it over the back of the wagon. It landed without a sound in the soft grass at the edge of the road. They were already heading up the last incline. The log toppled over the downhill side of the road and rolled down the slope until it was hidden in the bushes.

Mike heaved a sigh of relief. It was all right now. The horses were making a fine effort and they reached the top of the ridge in no time. Home was in sight and Jonesy would be there waiting for them, no doubt with a hot drink and something quick to eat to tide them over till supper. Jonesy believed in feeding the workers!

The boys had certainly worked hard by the time the logs were unloaded and stowed safely in the ever-increasing fuel store. Slim and Jess rode in soon after and all of them had chores to complete before they could eat their evening meal and settle down to a quiet night around the fire.

Mike lay on his stomach on the hearthrug, with two of the house cats sitting on top of him. It was his favorite position, even though the feline claws padding a nest in his shirt could be a bit sharp. He liked their deep purring, though, like a cat-song of content. He could hear the fire hissing and humming too. Jess said every kind of wood made a different music when it was burning on the fire. Mike had taught himself to listen and found that he could indeed tell whether they were burning ash or oak or maple or birch by the song it sang. It seemed sad to him in a way, that this sound should only be set free when the wood was turning to ash. It reminded him of a story Slim had read to them once about swans singing as they died. Nonetheless, he was deeply content and didn't even put up a token protest when Jonesy started to shoo him off to bed. He turned in quickly and his eyes closed almost at once as he fell into the deep sleep which a day's work in the open air was certain to guarantee. The logs on the fire continued to sing.

**t – t – t – t – t**

_The grassy bank was a mountain to be conquered. One pace at a time. One hop at a time. One strenuous jerk to heave the whole upwards. One laborious effort to remain upright. One inch at a time. One foot at a time. Until at last the slope was surmounted and the road led away in the right direction._

Mike woke the whole household with his scream: "It's coming! It's coming!"

When they had calmed and comforted him, he could not tell them what 'it' was, only that he dreaded its approach.

**t – t – t – t – t**

_The top of the ridge was insurmountable. Greater than the slope. Greater than a mountain. And greater the compelling force which, despite all the odds, keeps striving upward, __onward__. Sending out a desperate cry driving against the prevailing westerly wind._

"It's calling! It's calling"

But he could not tell them the words.

**t – t – t – t – t**

_The slope was easy. Anything can get down a slope. Anything can roll. Anything can race. Anything can rumble and thunder through the night in a cloud of its own dark dust. Anything can arrive._

Mike started up in his bed, a single call echoing in the ears of his mind.

_I am near!_

Morning found him still sitting bolt upright, his eyes fixed on the shuttered window which opened onto the yard and the highway. He was freezing cold, his hands clutching the quilt, white-knuckled. His lips were ragged and bright with drops of blood where he had bitten them to keep silent.

Jonesy found him. Jonesy was always the first up. Jonesy was more uneasy about the youngster's nightmares even than the rest of the little family. Jonesy gently pried Mike's fingers from the coverlet and gently led him out to the living room, intending to help him get warm again.

Mike jerked violently away from the fireside.

Jonesy frowned, but didn't let Mike see his perturbation. Instead he warmed a couple of blankets and wrapped them round the boy where he sat shivering at the table. He brought a hot, sweet drink and clasped Mike's frozen hands round the warm mug. Then he set about making Mike's favorite breakfast.

**t – t – t – t – t**

_Flat earth is easy. Easier to pace. Easier to hop. Easier to keep upright. Easier to avoid the ruts. Easier now the destination is in sight. Not long now._

_I am close!_

He hadn't had a nightmare! After three nights of vivid dreams and a terrible sense of impending horror, Mike woke on the fourth day feeling surprised. Surprised but less relieved than might have been expected. He felt as if he had lost sight of something important. But when he looked cautiously out of the window, the day was entirely normal and there was nothing to be seen except Slim and Jess washing up under the pump and the chickens scratching around the back door.

Chickens were Mike's responsibility. He sighed and started to dress.

The day passed like any other day, at least as far as chores and homework were concerned. Mike did everything which was required of him with one eye over his shoulder all the time. This did not make him very efficient and at times he felt his head would fly off his shoulders, he swiveled it round to take in what was behind him so often. But he had felt and heard a presence and now it was stalking him unseen but getting perilously closer.

"Mike?" Slim called from the barn.

Mike started violently, but recovered himself quickly and ran to see what his guardian wanted.

"Can you count the goats with me, please?" Slim requested. "They're milling about so much I can't work out if they're all there or not."

The smaller animals were where Mike and Andy were more knowledgeable than Slim or Jess. While everyone, of course, dealt competently with any animal – everyone except Jonesy and the horses - the cowboys were experts at cows and horses. The boys were experts at anything that didn't low or neigh and knew most of these by name, except the chickens – it didn't pay to give names to creatures you were destined to eat.

Now Mike ran a practised eye over the herd of goats, which had got quite large over the last year, and said at once, "Greased Lightning's missing again. That's why they're fussing."

"Greased Lightning?" Slim queried in amusement.

"Yeah. He's one of the yearling kids. We named him because he's off as quick as a flash if he can find a way out of the corral."

"So can you get him back?" Slim asked, reckoning Mike was more likely to know where the goat had gone than he was.

Mike heaved a sigh. "I'll try. But he can run a lot faster than I can!"

"Time to practise using a rope?" Slim suggested.

This earned him a sage look. "You try," Mike said briefly. "Lightning's slippery, remember?"

"Well, you try running him down first. I'll help you if that doesn't work."

Mike nodded his acceptance of this instruction and went to the feed store to fetch a carrot or two to bribe Greased Lightning and an apple for himself – or maybe for the goat if the carrots didn't work. He knew this was one of the areas for which he and Andy had to take responsibility, but it was very difficult to chase a lively little goat and look over your shoulder at the same time. The day had begun uneasily and it wasn't getting any better - not yet. He just hoped it didn't get worse.

It looked as though his luck had changed when he found the goat grazing a little way along the road towards Cheyenne. It was outside the paddock fence but evidently didn't think that the grass was greener on this side, because it came eagerly for the carrots and let Mike catch it quite easily. Once he had put on the rope halter he and Andy had made for just such occasions, everything seemed to be going well.

Then he saw it.

_It was not hidden. It was not lying in the grass, like any other log. It was propped up against the fence post, for all the world like a man taking a rest before going on again. Like a contented man humming under his breath with purposeful concentration. But the music was not that of any wood Mike could identify._

He ran, dragging the little goat behind him. He ran until he came to the barn. He ran without looking back, convinced it was on his heels. But when he raced into the barn and bolted towards Slim, there was nothing behind him but the goat.

"Easy!" Slim caught the hurtling body in one arm and grabbed the goat's rope with the other hand. No sense in letting it go again. "I guess you're the one who should be called Greased Lightning!"

Mike was too out of breath to answer. He was just mighty glad to be held in a strong, warm embrace, to feel ordinary solid human flesh against him and to smell the familiar scent of leather and horse and smoke from the forge and just a little whiff of that stuff Slim used to slick down his hair. When he had recovered a bit, he muttered a thank-you and wriggled until Slim set him on his own feet again.

Together they reunited Lightning with his fellows and milked those of the herd which needed it. Strictly speaking this was not Slim's job, but he helped anyway. And for the rest of the day, Slim did small tasks around the barn and the yard, never far from where he could keep an eye on Mike and the boy, in turn, could see him.

Evening came and, as usual, everyone rested by the fireside. Everyone except Mike, who used the excuse of finishing some of his sums for school in order to sit as far from the fire as was possible without actually becoming too cold to write. The song of the fire tonight was low and melancholy, a poignant melody of longing.

**t – t – t – t – t**

"Don't! Don't chop that one!"

Mike hurled himself at Jess as the Texan's axe-blade lifted in a flashing arc. His hands closed on the descending arm and he swung his full weight on it so that the edge of the axe plunged into the ground rather than the wood on the chopping block.

"What the hell, Mike!" Jess rarely swore in front of the boys these days, but he was shaking with shock. "You could've got y'self killed, you little idiot!"

Mike said nothing. He was kneeling in the dust, quite still. His eyes were fixed on the smooth, bare log, where it had rolled away into the shadow of the barn. Surely others could see it? Could see the lines, the shapes just under the smooth surface?

Jess put the axe down safely where no-one could tread on it or have it fall on them. A repeated tremor still ran through him at the terrible thought that he might have hurt Mike seriously, even if it did seem to be all Mike's own fault.

This was not like Mike! Jess knew both the boys understood about safety in the yard and were usually scrupulous in taking care around anything sharp or heavy or otherwise dangerous. He reminded himself that lively as the youngster was – and adventurous – sometimes even reckless as Jess himself could be – Mike knew what might happen if he pulled a stunt like he had just done. So he wouldn't do it without good reason, would he?

"What's up, Mike?" Jess extended a forgiving and consoling hand to pull the boy to his feet.

Mike never took his eyes off the log. "Can you leave this one, Jess? Not cut it, I mean? Please!"

The last word had a desperate urgency Jess could not ignore. "Sure," he agreed instantly. "You want t' put it someplace where it won't end up sittin' at the top of the pile?"

"Can you?" Mike pleaded. There was no way he wanted to touch that log ever again. But Jess was an adult and brave and had come through all sorts of adventures. More important, he was wearing the black leather gloves which he always did. Why this was a protection and what from, Mike could not have said: it was just so.

"Sure." Jess walked over to the shadow of the barn and bent down. But he didn't pick up the log. Instead he sat back on his heels and studied it for a long moment. "Come here, Bear Cub."

The nickname reassured Mike and he walked over to stand beside Jess. His guardian stretched out a finger to point, but did not touch the log. "You're right not to want to cut it up. See here? Very faint, but just under the surface, it looks like carvin'."

"Yeah," Mike gulped. "Like a bit of a hand, just there, and up above an eye and maybe a mouth!" His hand went to his own mouth because he wished he'd bitten his lip again and kept the words in.

"A mouth," Jess agreed, "but it ain't spoken in a long time. This un's very old. A totem maybe. Hard to tell 'cause the shapin's so worn."

"It wants to sing," Mike whispered, "but not on a fire."

"Ok." Jess seemed to take this extraordinary statement in his stride. He straightened up, lifted the log carefully and moved it round the corner of the woodshed, where he leaned it upright against the side. "We'll leave it there for the time bein'."

Later, when they were all gathered round the table, Jess explained to the others why the log had been put aside and where, so that they would not accidentally turn it in to firewood. What was to happen to it next no-one speculated that night. They sat quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, while the fire hummed, a small contented sound.

**t – t – t – t – t**

_The nearest corner of the corral. Nearer. Ever nearer. So much nearer to the desired objective. A cry drained of desperation. A call filled with confidence. A song of satisfaction. _

Mike stood transfixed in the center of the yard.

_I am here!_

The log was at the corner of the corral, just beyond the gate. Leaning against the post again. Leaning. Waiting. Gathering strength. Ready to cover the final distance.

Mike looked back at the house. Through the kitchen window he could see Jonesy busy chopping something for supper. Slim was tidying up the smithy. Jess was tossing hay down from the loft. Andy staggered across the yard with a basket-load of dry washing, the chickens doing their best to trip him up, as usual, on the principle that any moving human was a source of food.

Everything was perfectly normal.

Except the log.

Waiting.

Mike didn't know what to do. He wanted at all costs to keep the thing away from his home and the people he loved. He wanted to make it turn round and run in its strange way back to the wood where it belonged. Much more than all this, he wanted to run himself. Run and hide. But the time for running was past.

Instead he screwed up his courage and stomped over to the corral.

"Go away!" he ordered with as much authority as he could muster. "You don't belong here! Go back where you came from!" He waved his arms vigorously, as if he was herding the goats.

The log, of course, took about as much notice as any other log might have done. Precisely none. There was no reaction. No movement. No sign that this was not just dead wood.

Mike was flummoxed. He had no proof that the log could move. No way of convincing his beloved family that it was dangerous, even though Jess had agreed with him about not cutting up the other one. The other one! He'd temporarily forgotten that one. Now he hurried round the barn to the woodshed.

The second log was not there.

Overwhelmed by fear, Mike sprinted into the house and slammed the door behind him.

"What's got into you, Mike?" Jonesy looked up, startled, from where he was laying the table for supper.

"Practising running like greased lightning," Slim grinned. He was sitting by the window, taking off his boots.

Mike caught his breath and advanced on the table. "I'll finish laying for you, Jonesy." It would help him set his mind on what was normal once more.

And so it was – a perfectly normal evening, at least until Mike himself had gone to bed. Then things took a rather more serious turn.

"So what are we going to do with this log of Mike's?" Slim asked, once the boy was safely asleep.

"Don't look at me," Jess objected. "I ain't gonna do anything with them."

"Them? What d'you mean, them?" Slim demanded with some irritation. His well-run relay station seemed to be degenerating into a home for stray logs, as well as stray dogs and cats and other needy creatures.

"There's another one. Out by the corral." Jess retreated behind the paper. It was a week old, but it was better than nothing. It didn't work.

"Jess!" Slim said, a warning note in his voice. "Have you been encouraging Mike? Egging him on about these logs?"

Jess contrived to look both innocent and offended. But he also staunchly took Mike's part. "Y' said yourself he was real upset the other day."

"Yeah, but that was about the goat."

Jess shook his head. "He was out by the paddock," he pointed out. "And the next thing to the paddock's the corral."

"I didn't see any log."

"No, but Mike probably did."

"Yeah. In his nightmare, he was yellin' 'It's coming! It's coming!'" Jonesy reminded them.

"He dreamed it was coming. It's not real. It's all nonsense - just imagination!" Slim insisted.

Jonesy shook his head shrewdly. "I guess the boy is looking at it through his own knothole."

"Which doesn't help us decide what to do about it."

"Them," Jess put in from behind the newspaper, where he had once more retreated. He admired Slim's practicality and common sense most of the time. It was just that his own imagination encompassed a tatterdemalion world of unexpected experiences, encounters and insights. He could feel Slim's frown through six thicknesses of paper.

"Are you sure it's not the same one? One log's pretty much like another."

Jess lowered the newspaper and gave him a scathing look. He said, "Not these two ain't. But I'll go out and check it, if it'll convince y'."

Slim nodded. "Best to be absolutely sure."

Obviously resisting the urge to retort 'I am sure!", Jess got up from his rocking chair and went out. It was only a few minutes until he returned, but they were long ones. When he came back in, his expression was thoughtful.

"It's not the same. This one's got feet, maybe legs as well."

"Ugh!" Andy exclaimed. "Like it's two halves of a body trying to get back together." He'd been keeping very quiet. He was deadly worried about Mike and didn't want to be packed off to bed until he knew what his elders had decided, but the thought of a dismembered wooden cadaver advancing on the ranch was too much.

"Maybe. Probably. At any rate, the other one ain't by the woodshed anymore."

Slim gave his partner a hard look, not sure if this was one of Jess's elaborate practical jokes, but the other man showed no sign of bursting out laughing any time soon. "You are kidding?" Slim asked hopefully, nonetheless.

Jess shook his head. "And the one by the corral's moved. It's just outside the barn."

"It's got to be some kind of trick," Slim objected. He was much too down to earth to be easily swayed by apparent paranormal activity. "Maybe Mike's doing it himself, trying to scare us for fun?"

"No!" Andy came sharply to Mike's defense. "He was really terrified when I passed him that log. He wasn't pretending ... I wish I'd never made him take it!" he added vehemently.

"And you noticed nothing?"

Andy shook his head. "But I'd been driving the team. I had gloves on."

"That makes sense," Jess agreed. "I didn't feel anything either, for the same reason."

"But Mike might be doing it without realizing," Slim suggested. "When he's sleep-walking, maybe?"

Jonesy scotched this notion firmly. "Mike ain't bin sleep-walkin' for a long while now. Specially when Andy's back from school. All the same, with the state he's in, maybe we'd better take it in turns to keep watch tonight."

"That means you get the dawn watch," Jess grinned, knowing how early Jonesy got up every day. "And Slim needs his uninterrupted beauty sleep, so he can go first and I'll take the middle watch."

"What about me?" Andy demanded indignantly.

"You're sleeping in the same room," Slim reminded him. "You can let us know if he gets out of the window."

**t – t – t – t – t**

The first watch of the night passed quickly and without incident. A while after midnight, Jess emerged from the bunk-room to find Slim sitting in the shadows by the banked-down fire.

"All quiet?"

"Yeah. Not so much as a mouse stirring, never mind a boy."

Jess hid an affectionate smile at this. He doubted very much if Slim's law-abiding personality had led him to sneak out without permission very often. If he had, he would have known nothing much was going to happen until Mike was certain everyone had settled down for the night. Not to mention the fact that a single peep round the boys' bedroom door would have revealed that Slim was still up.

"Ok," he said loudly. "You turn in. I'm just gonna take a look round the yard – make sure it's all clear and there ain't nothing about before I do the same."

"Sshh!" Slim warned nervously. "He could hear you."

This was Jess's intention, but he didn't say so, just pulled on his boots and coat, buckled on his gun-belt and slapped on his hat.

" 'Night," Slim whispered.

"Goodnight. Sleep well." Jess didn't bother to turn the volume down at all. In fact he shut the front door pretty loudly too.

As he stepped down from the porch and started to stride towards the barn, intent on his self-appointed mission, his foot struck against a solid object which should not have been there. It made a slightly hollow thud. Jess halted, standing stock still. He was in the shadow of the house so, despite the full moon, he could not see what he had bumped into - but there were no prizes for guessing. He sighed and skirted carefully round the object. It wasn't a fast mover, so he didn't figure on it getting anywhere soon.

"Y' goin' in the wrong direction," he told it.

There was of course exactly as much answer as one might expect from a log. None whatsoever. Jess sighed again and went on to the barn.

Mike, meanwhile, had been waiting for just such an opportunity to sneak out – an activity at which he was considerably better than either of his guardians. He'd still been fully dressed under his nightshirt, with the exception of his boots and coat which were in their usual place by the door. Once he had got these safely on, he eased the door open and slid out.

The log was standing on the porch. It was at the top of the steps. Actually it was too dark to see anything clearly, but Mike knew it was there all the same. He could hear it singing. Very quietly. A thread of music almost without melody, indeed without notes, but with a powerful longing infusing every particle of sound.

Mike froze on the spot. He had no idea what the log could do or what it wanted or what to do about it. It would not be driven off. It would not give up. It seemed to want to enter the house. All he could tell about it was the deep yearning in the sound it was making. It cut right through Mike, because just so he had cried in heart and mind and spirit when his parents were torn from him. Cried with the longing to be united, to be one again.

Then there was an answering call from the corner of the house.

For the first time, Mike saw the log actually move. Saw it swivel on its base as it turned towards the sound. Its own song became intense, echoing piercingly not just in Mike's hearing but in his skull too. He clapped his hands over his ears but it made no difference.

The log lurched towards the steps. It overbalanced. It tumbled down into the dust.

Mike gave a gasp of alarm and, as if in answer to it, the wagon rolled silently out of the barn and came to a halt in the middle of the moonlit yard.

"You ok, Mike?" Jess's voice inquired softly.

The relief rendered Mike speechless for all of a minute. Then he managed to gasp out hoarsely, "Yeah. I'm ok. But the log fell."

"Not really shaped for movin' around," Jess remarked as he jumped lightly to the ground and walked over to the side of the house. "I thought so, the other one's here. Seems to have be havin' the same sort of trouble."

"They're part of each other, part of the same song," Mike whispered. "They just want to be together."

"Then I guess if we're gonna get rid of them, we're gonna have t' lend them a hand." Jess gestured to the wagon.

Mike stared at him in wonder. "You had the team harnessed already?"

"Yeah. I thought something like this might be necessary," Jess told him calmly.

Nothing more was said as he picked up first one and then the other log and laid them in the bed of the wagon, which he had padded with hay and old sacks.

"You're taking care of them!"

"Seems like a good idea, given the way they've been behavin'." Jess sounded as if walking logs and singing wood were nothing much out of the ordinary. He just went round to the driving seat and climbed up. "You comin'?"

Mike scrambled quickly up beside him and the wagon immediately rolled out onto the road in the direction of Cheyenne. The full moon made it almost as clear as day, but there was something uncanny which reminded them that it was still the middle of the night. No harness clinked, no wheels squeaked, no hooves thudded. They might have been floating along in a dream.

A shiver shook Mike which had almost nothing to do with cold. A warm arm wrapped round him in a comforting hug, followed by the instruction: "Look under the seat." Mike scrabbled around and found there were blankets to keep out the chill night air. Jess seemed to have thought of everything.

It was not far to drive, but the air was so still and their progress so silent that they seemed to have slipped out of time entirely. Mike could not have said how long it was until he squeezed Jess's arm and whispered, "This is the place." The wagon glided to a halt and they sat in the moonlight, looking over the silver grass to the black columns of the trees. All that remained now was to return the wood to the wood from which it had come and to hope this would be enough.

Jess carefully lifted down the first log and nodded to Mike, who led him towards the edge of the forest where the woodpile had been. Jess laid the log down gently in the grass, making sure that the faint carvings were facing upwards. Then they both went back to the wagon and Jess repeated the same procedure with the second one.

When they were both safely back in the wagon, Jess put an arm round Mike again and gave him another hug. "They're back where they belong, OK?" He picked up the reins, ready to turn the team around.

"Jess!" Mike whispered. "Look!"

Below the dark outline of the trees, the two logs showed a faint glimmer in the shadows. A translucent sheen which became denser and more luminous second by second. A glowing radiance clothing them both. A brilliance at the heart of each of them which pulsed and blazed and coalesced until it burst into flame.

Two flames. One pure incandescent white. One deep scintillating gold.

The flames burned brilliantly above the two logs, but the logs were not consumed. Jess murmured in wonder, "Like the burnin' bush ..."

The flames continued to deepen and grow until the outline of a figure could be seen in each of them. Small figures, not even as big Mike. Human shaped, yet in no way mortal.

The pure white being extended a hand of flame and clasped the answering hand of the gold one.

Hand in hand the two small figures of living flame stepped down from the logs and paced away into the trees.

The brilliance of their fire gradually faded.

All that remained were two cold polished-bone logs, lying in the shadows close to the roots of the trees at the very edge of Deadwood.

.

* * *

.

Notes

_Acknowledgement_:

Moving logs, though not the same kind, can also be found in John Gordon's creepy children's novel, _The House on the Brink_.


	2. Chapter 2

**.**

**.**

**Just Passing Through**

'Let's grimly kiss …..

as Life when it is kissing Death.'

_A Fleeting Passion, _W. H. Davies

.

_He was mighty grateful to be free_.

All his life, Jess Harper had hated being shut in, confined, restricted, or generally under someone else's control. Now, as Traveller loped gently along the trail back to Laramie, Jess was trying to work out why he'd just spent the night in jail. It wasn't for any wrong-doing, that he was sure of. In fact it was another case of the law leaping in and locking up the stranger before finding they'd got the wrong man. Or so it appeared to Jess. But he was beginning to wonder if he had been hit on the head, because his recollections of the previous night consisted of nothing more than a prolonged grumble about the uncomfortable bed, lack of food and total dearth of coffee. _Surely he should be able to remember something about the whole affair?_

The narrow escape from whatever punishment might have been deemed suitable for him should have made him lighthearted. Instead he felt uneasy both physically and mentally. He was not clear what had been done to him, but it sure felt as if he'd taken at least one beating. This didn't trouble him nearly as much as the thought of what Slim was going to say when he found out what had happened or at least as much as Jess could recall. And he was going to find out, because Jess was now a day late in returning to their agreed rendezvous. For that, he would be accountable – and you didn't want to account to Slim Sherman when he was all fired up about punctuality and following orders and sticking to plans. The fact that Jess had only the vaguest explanation for his tardy return was certainly not going to help matters either.

Jess shivered involuntarily and tugged at his jacket, turning up the collar to keep the wind out. Not that he was afraid of Slim's reaction exactly. Jess was perfectly capable of standing up to his partner and taking responsibility for his own actions. If he didn't want to, then he was darned if he was going to offer any explanation or excuse! It was just … he didn't know what the explanation was and this thought sent another shudder down his spine.

A sudden longing to be home seized Jess. He didn't care how mad Slim was with him. He didn't care what he had forgotten or failed to do. He didn't care if he had to bear the consequences - he would do so alone, as far as it lay in his power. But he just wanted to be home. To hear Andy and Mike in earnest discussion over housing for their joint menagerie. To hear the rattle of pots and pans from the kitchen and Jonesy's sardonic grumbling about the healthy appetites he had to feed on a tight budget. To hear Slim muttering to himself at the desk as he tried to make the books balance.

_Home! The quicker the better! And preferably without Slim having his hide on the way._

Jess drew rein and halted Traveller to consider the options. He could keep to the road. Or he could take a short cut. He looked at the deeply rutted road and knew Traveller would hate it and they'd make slow progress at best. He looked at the faint trail, nothing much more than a path, leading up into the woods beyond the road and straight in the direction he wanted to go.

_He was in a hurry!_ Suddenly it was more important than anything to be able to face Slim and – in accounting for himself, in sharing what had happened to him – to allow his partner's justified anger to purge from him what he had been through last night. He wanted to be clean. To be free of it. The trust between the two of them was greater than any confused misunderstanding or disagreement or failure or mistake. Whatever had happened, he could rely on Slim and the honest, ordinary stability he embodied.

When he hadn't turned up at the rendezvous yesterday, Slim would surely have set off without him today because they had promised to return home by then. So Jess needed to push on if he wanted to catch up his probably irate partner and there was no question of the way to take. Jess turned Traveller from the road and urged him on up the path through the woods. The bay snorted in protest. Jess took no notice. His entire purpose was the quickest way home. All he had to do was to keep straight ahead and he couldn't go wrong.

It was as though he had passed through a gate, with all the finality – or was it fatality? – of it clicking decisively shut behind him. Behind was a strange town, a cold jail, a confusion of mind and spirit. In front … the wood. Something in his heart kept trying to place 'home' at the forefront of his mind, but his mind registered only the wood and the path he had chosen.

_Surely the old man had warned him?_

The recollection came out of nowhere. Jess could not connect it with an actual encounter, a real event. He could not see the face, the clothes, the posture, the surroundings. He could not visualize the circumstances. He could no longer see the person. Only the words hung in the air before him, like a written echo of a sound he had once heard.

"_Beware! Beware the curse of …"_

Before he could even recall – or was it read? – them all, they faded, dissolving with the fall mist which laced delicately between the trees. He shook his head, trying to clear the mental fog that was as pervasive and yet illusive as the real mist which drifted around him. He pressed on, urging Traveller to his best speed, as if they were running from something. Or running towards it.

The wood was beautiful.

It was beautiful in a way that Jess had never experienced before.

The smooth, slender tree trunks rose up around horse and rider like silver-grey pillars, seemingly rippling and gliding across the forest floor, an ever-changing curtain which was always the same. Below them the ground was hidden under a rich carpet of crimson and ocher. Above them the path was roofed with graceful arches of gold, through which the wan sunlight was filtered until it glowed like summer. The tendrils of mist, curling and weaving around the pillars and the arches, made the sight blur so that it was no longer certain which was which.

Entranced, without thinking, Jess slowed his faithful mount, ignoring the horse's obvious desire to speed onward. Slower and … slower … until …

He was sitting on the grassy bank of a stream. The water was crystal clear, running silently over smooth grey stones. Light reflected from the ripples on its surface, even though there was no sun … no moon … no stars.

He was barefoot. The water looked cool. Soothing. Inviting.

"_I wouldn't do that if I were you."_

Never give Jess Harper prohibitive advice, however well-meaning. Guaranteed to make him want to do the opposite, or at least it was so in the present circumstances.

_But you did! And you aren't! _

So he sat barefoot on the bank of a clear, silent stream of liquid light. In the air drifted a subtle perfume. It had a faint, ripe sweetness, its richness rooted in the rot of the leaves' decay. After a minute – or maybe an hour - he looked up and saw a woman standing on the opposite bank. As his eyes lighted upon her she straightened up from the stoop which bowed her back to stand lithesome and luscious before him. Her eyes were as clear and liquid as the stream. They were fixed, unwavering, on Jess.

"You are confused. You are uncertain. Bathe. Be calmed. Be soothed."

Jess shook his head slightly, as much to clear it as in answer. It was the ending of the year. Already temperatures were dropping and living things were seeking their winter fastnesses.

_And this woman wanted him to bathe in a stream?_

Her liquid eyes never left his own. Her hands were spread out in entreaty. Her posture was beseeching.

Inviting.

Jess had been brought up with good manners. Hospitality was in the lifeblood of settler communities. Those who chose to ignore or abuse it very often died alone. Even more vital, it was central to life at the Sherman Relay Station and the work they did there. The woman wanted to help him. Her ideas were a little far-fetched, but Jess was prepared to respect them, maybe even go along with them a little, although it might mean lingering longer in the wood and cause him more delay.

After all, she was very beautiful.

**t – t – t – t – t**

_This confounded wood seemed to go on for ever!_

Slim Sherman was not in the best of tempers. He'd set out to meet Jess on his road home. Slim had been covering territory in the same direction and, as he packed up his overnight camp, he figured it would be pleasant to ride back companionably together the whole way, instead of just from meeting point they had arranged.

That was before he realized Jess was late.

A day late.

Slim shook his head in confusion. _How had they lost a whole day?_ He could have sworn he'd given Jess really clear instructions about what to do and when to do it. Then he shrugged in resignation.

_You just had to expect the unexpected with Jess. He ought to know that by now! As for giving him instructions …_

A wry smile touched Slim's lips in acknowledgement of his partner's independence, which might make him kick against routine, but was invaluable in a tight situation. But the shrug put in another appearance, along with a frown which creased Slim's forehead in a manner which was wont to make Jess issue his own instructions: "Quite worryin', will y'! Y' ain't gonna change anything that way!"

Nonetheless, Slim was worrying, even if he was pretending to himself he was not. He'd set out with the intention of hurrying Jess along from wherever he'd been dawdling and giving him a good talking to on the subject of timekeeping. But now he was increasingly perturbed. _He just had to find Jess!_ He'd back-tracked the trail Jess could be expected to follow. And all he had to go on was a garbled account from the idle sheriff of a no-account town in the middle of nowhere that a dark-haired Texan stranger had spent the previous night in the town jail.

Now, Jess in jail was not totally out of the question. His checkered past had a habit of making itself felt at unexpected and usually inconvenient times. But the sheriff was unable to say what charge, if any, there had been and hadn't implied that Jess had been drunk. At any rate, by all accounts, Jess had left town stone-cold sober in the morning.

_Not that this meant he had not been drunk last night. Slim had seen Jess apparently sober, upright and steady on plenty of mornings when he had no darned right to be!_

The only meager clue had been a comment from one of the numerous older townsfolk: "He wuz headin' f' the Deadwood. Told him not t' – gave him th'warnin', same as usual - but he went right ahead." This was followed with an eldritch cackle and the comment: "Guess young men ain't changed very much!"

Telling Jess not to do something was unlikely to succeed unless there was real evidence or authority to back the prohibition. So Slim had headed for the wood and now he was muttering imprecations against himself for not going straight home by the nearest route and against Jess for not heading back on the day he'd been expected to.

There were no tracks. The path itself was clear enough, but Slim would have expected to see at least some hoof-prints in the damper patches. Unless Jess and Traveller had developed a mysterious ability to float above the ground, it seemed unlikely they had come this way. Nonetheless, it was now the most direct route home and Slim pressed on.

_In all probability, he'd find Jess at home, lounging in a rocking chair and consuming vast quantities of coffee. He hoped …_

So preoccupied was the worried partner, friend and ranch owner, that he barely registered Alamo splashing through a shallow stream. The chestnut pressed eagerly onward, imbued perhaps with some of his rider's anxiety. Ahead of them, a horse uttered a whicker of greeting.

_It was Traveller!_

Slim's heart leaped in joyful anticipation, which was only a little constrained by his desire to thrash Jess for causing so much confusion and wasted time.

"You are perturbed. You are confused. Rest. Be calmed. Be soothed."

Abruptly Slim came to himself. He was in a clearing in the forest. The smell of leaf-mold stirred up and of something unexpectedly luscious filled the air. Close by was a solid and totally ordinary cabin, strongly constructed of stone and timber against the harshness of winter. As he ran his eyes over the place, he became aware of a woman standing on the porch. At first he thought she was elderly, a tough pioneering grandma of the old-fashioned school, but her voluptuous figure soon dispelled this notion. She was simply clad in a long, plain dress or robe, but this was not what he noticed - only her eyes, as clear and liquid as pure water. They were fixed, unwavering, on Slim.

"You are weary. You are burdened. Take your ease within."

Her liquid eyes never left his own. Her hands were spread out in entreaty. Her posture was beseeching.

Inviting.

Slim Sherman had been raised to accept hospitality with gratitude and good manners. It was automatic for him to respect and respond to her invitation.

She was also extremely beautiful.

**t – t – t – t – t**

A minute later – or maybe an hour – he was standing inside the cabin. It comprised only a single room, which served as living room, kitchen and bedroom all together. A fire blazed on the hearth. The table was covered with a pristine white cloth and set with two places. In the far corner was a large brass bedstead. In the bed lay a still figure. So very still.

Slim's breath hissed out in amazed shock. His first reaction was a mixture of fury and jealousy that Jess had been indulging himself with a beautiful – the most beautiful – woman instead of getting on with the instructions he'd been given. His second reaction was a pure pang of fear that Jess's stillness was the stillness of death, rather than of satisfied exhaustion. His third reaction was that something was not right.

Given his first reaction, this last might have been a perfectly natural condemnation of his snap judgement of his friend. But it was much more literal than this. As Slim drew near to the bed and gazed down at the motionless man, he was absolutely certain that something was wrong.

Jess was sleeping on his back, his dark head pressed deep into the soft pillows. His hair, even though it had a rough, springy life of its own, looked ruffled because someone had just run their fingers through it. His long lashes lay like shadowy pools under his eyes, making the sockets seem almost hollow, as if he had somehow been starved.

This brought a smile to Slim's face, despite his confused feelings. _While there was food, Jess would only starve when someone needed it more. And if he had to starve, he would bear it with his usual stubborn resilience!_

Jess was sleeping on his back, his arms outside the quilt covering him and his hands clasped, almost as if in prayer.

_But Jess never slept on his back, not in a bed anyway! _Slim had seen him so often, lying on his side facing the door, one hand nearly always stretched towards his gun belt, even at home, where he knew he was safe. It was the habit of a rough and uncertain lifetime. A habit which had served him well as a youngster and an adult.

Now, Jess looked absurdly childlike in his sleep. As if something had taken him back through the years to a time when he had not had to fend for himself, when innocence and trust had never been betrayed.

"So young. So full of life," the woman said softly in Slim's ear. "Such life. Such vigor. Such untapped energy."

Slim started a little. He had not realized she was so close. Pressed right up against him as he stood beside the bed, looking down at Jess.

"Like you." Her arm slid round his waist, warm and inviting. "Young. Strong. Willing."

Looking down at her, Slim mustered a polite smile. He was not going to be rude or reject compliments from a woman who was obviously both alone and lonely. All the same, the very fact that she was alone and so presumably vulnerable, made him draw back gently from the embrace.

"Well, all his vigor needs a lot of feeding," he said cheerfully. "I'd better wake him up and get him home, or he'll be eating you out of _your_ house and home."

The woman gestured to the table. "Sit. Eat. Be sustained."

Slim blinked. The table now covered with dishes from which an enticing aroma drifted up. Next to them was an obviously freshly baked apple pie. He shook his head. _Surely he could not have dozed off while these preparations were made? How could he have been standing on his feet asleep?_

Despite such uneasy thoughts, the manners of a lifetime prevailed. It was rude to refuse hospitality. _And Jess would certainly be starving when he woke, you could count on that!_

Slim stretched out a tentative hand towards the bed. He'd had plenty of experience of trying to get Jess out of his bunk in the mornings and more than once had resorted to robust physical persuasion. But he had also seen Jess woken unexpectedly and knew that his formidable lightning response was not one to be invited lightly.

Almost as if Jess sensed Slim's outstretched hand, his eyes opened slowly. He seemed to have difficulty focusing and muttered rather irritably: "Stupid … too cold for bathin' … " Then his eyes opened fully and fastened on Slim. He tried abruptly to sit up.

"Slim! I'msorry ... never meant yt'worry … don'trightlyknow … what happened but … I ain't donenothing an' Iwasn't drunk!" He sounded almost drunk, though, for his speech was blurred and as confused as his gaze.

Slim heard only the apology. He knew what it cost Jess and his heart was warmed that his friend's first thought was to regret the trouble he might have caused.

"It's OK," he said reassuringly, reaching out now to help Jess sit up. "But what the hell are you doing wearing someone else's nightshirt?"

"What? It ain't night!" Once again Jess sounded irritable and indignant. "Lemme get up!"

"Rest. Relax. Be refreshed."

The coaxing voice from the foot of the bed was ignored by both young men. Jess was scrambling out of the entangling bed linen. Slim was looking round for his friend's clothes. They were nowhere to be found and Jess was now standing barefooted, clad only in a over-size nightshirt which seemed certain to impede any physical expression of his undoubted exasperation.

"Calm down." Slim dropped a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're OK now."

This statement was somewhat optimistic. Jess clearly thought so anyway. "That's fine and dandy for you to say!" he snapped. "You've still got all y' clothes on."

This was indisputable. Slim refrained from pointing out "You shouldn't have taken yours off then!" and turned his attention to the woman instead.

"Perhaps you can help?" he asked politely. "My friend seems to have mislaid his clothes."

Jess's muttered "Did not!" was overlaid by the woman's rich laughter. "Here there is no need." Her graceful arms swept wide to encompass the blazing fire and the overly warm room.

"Yes, I appreciate the comfort of your home." Slim's response was determinedly calm and polite. "But we have to get to ours on horseback. A nightshirt is –"

She laughed again. "Appropriate within! Come. Enjoy. Forget your troubles."

"There will be trouble if I don't get m' clothes back pronto!" Jess growled. Quite what he intended to do to cause the said trouble was not immediately apparent, but Slim had no doubt he'd think of something!

"Come. You are young. You are alive." The woman was once more much closer than they had thought and reached out to smooth the frown now creasing Slim's forehead. "Do not waste life-energy on useless worry and resistance."

"Save y' breath!" Jess told her. He obviously had no intention of being polite and tactful like Slim. "If I had a dollar for every time I've told him not t' worry, I'd not be ranchin' for a livin'!"

"But you don't and you are," Slim reminded him quickly. "Come on. We need to get back. There's work waiting."

Jess groaned. "Work! Don't y' ever think about anything else? What about some fun and relaxation now and then?" His grin suggested that he was teasing.

Slim grinned too. "I don't know about fun, but it looks like you've had your relaxation. Now get moving!" He gave his protesting partner a firm push in the direction of the door.

This proved counterproductive. It nearly sent Jess straight into the woman's outstretched arms, for she had once again moved unbelievably swiftly to block their way. Jess jerked back at the last moment, treading heavily on Slim's toes as he did so. For a man with bare feet, he made considerably more impact than seemed fair. Slim, however, simply grabbed him by the waist and moved him a little to the side, so they were facing the woman shoulder to shoulder, just as they would always stand when they were forced into a confrontation.

This face-off felt as dangerous as any gunfight, despite the fact that they were only opposing a beautiful, smiling woman. Her inviting manner and seductive charm were weapons which it was difficult for two perfectly normal polite young men to overcome. The woman closed the distance between them, her arms outstretched in what was even more clearly an invitation than it had been the first time each of them had encountered her. A faint sickly-sweet perfume drifted from the folds of the simple robe she wore, stealing into their senses with a subtle soporific power. Her eyes were a liquid fire of desire and somehow both of them felt her unwavering stare was fixed upon them personally, as if the other did not exist.

It seemed they were all three engaged in a slow-motion dance, only not to the same music. The woman's arms came round Slim in a possessive embrace which sought to draw him closer, far closer, than he was willing to go with any kind of audience, still less in front of his best friend. The friend who was being pushed aside - relegated in his favor. Her proffered kiss felt deadly divisive and her whispered words, "I choose you. You alone," served only to increase his distaste and strengthen his conviction that he and Jess should reject whatever she was offering and escape.

When Slim forcibly disengaged himself, the woman whirled round, her loose robe floating on a tide of that strange perfume, and flung her arms round Jess's neck. Her upturned face tilted towards him, her lips glistening, her compelling eyes half-closed in ecstatic anticipation. "You are the only one. The one I have chosen," she murmured seductively. But Jess was no more of an exhibitionist than Slim and, far from responding to the invitation to kiss, his expression turned utterly grim. He was angry and revolted to find someone once more trying to restrict and confine him, no matter how pleasurable their intention. Besides, Slim's friendship was worth far more than some contrived contest for an unknown woman's favors. He pulled back abruptly, breaking the suffocating hold which felt so unnaturally strong, to stand close beside his friend and partner once more.

Nothing was stronger than the bond between the two of them. Their trust in each other was greater than any kind of confused misunderstanding, temptation or rivalry. Whatever uncanny lure was trying to ensnare them, the strength of such a partnership was founded on and flourished in simple and equal shared life. In her designs on them both, the woman had made the mistake of pitting one friend against the other. Of coming in between them.

There was no division between them now. A lightning look flashed from dark blue to light blue eyes. A total rejection of the woman's acroamatic seduction.

"Let's go!" Slim ordered.

For once, Jess didn't even think about arguing. He just hitched up the nightshirt and high-tailed it for the door.

**t – t – t – t – t**

They burst out into the clearing and the cool light of late afternoon in the fall. Behind them there sounded the unmistakable click of a door closing.

Traveller and Alamo raised interested heads from where they had been hitched not to the rail, but to a couple of trees on the far side of the clearing. Their relieved owners hastened over and untied them, only too keen to mount up and head out of the forest.

"Hey, you're dressed!" Slim was looking Jess up and down in surprise.

"Of course I am!" Jess retorted. "Y' don't think I'm gonna take anything off in this weather, do y'?" His Texan temperature tolerance still did not relish impending winter in Wyoming.

Slim's brow wrinkled in yet another frown and he said in confused tones, "But I'm sure you … weren't you wearing a nightshirt?"

Jess stared at him, frowning in his turn. "A nightshirt? Are y' out of your mind? I never wear nightshirts!"

"But in the cab - in – " Slim's jaw dropped open in mid-word, for he had turned to look behind them.

"What cabin?" Jess asked in muffled tones as he bent to tighten the cinch on his saddle.

"The cabin with the woman."

Slim's voice sounded strange, almost as if some powerful sensation was strangling his breath. Jess looked up, concerned that his friend was in pain or sickening for something. The other man's face certainly looked sickened enough.

"Woman?" Jess asked doubtfully, struggling with uneasy recollections.

"Yeah. You were in bed."

"I was not in bed with any woman!" Jess declared, all his exasperation coming to the fore. He was pretty certain he'd remember something like that.

"She was in the cabin. You were in the bed. In a nightshirt," Slim told him with all the firm simplicity of one speaking to a very small child.

"So where's she now? Where's this cabin. And the bed. And the nightshirt!" Jess retorted in equally direct tones.

Slim continued to stare across the clearing. Jess sighed in even more exasperation, dropped Traveller's reins and strode in the direction his friend was focused on.

"There's nothing he – " In his turn, he stopped in mid-declaration. He too was staring. In fact the very act jogged something in his memory and he muttered half to himself: "She had very … strange … eyes."

"Yeah. Scary!" Slim was not going to beat about the bush.

Instead he walked across to join Jess, who was poised over some very real bushes. Close inspection showed the outline of the stone foundation of a building. Trees, bushes and creepers had taken the timber, but you could still see, from the more durable parts of the walls, the place where the door been and the remains of a stone chimney. There had been a cabin. Once.

They stood in rapt contemplation for a minute or so. Or it might have been an hour. Presently Jess stirred and pointed. "There's writing."

On the slate slab which had formed the door sill, they could make out some worn letters that had once been jaggedly carved into it.

_'Whi- men -alk -his -ath_

_I sha- re-in you-.'_

As they stared in puzzlement, the words suddenly seemed to take life, rising from the cold stone with a passionate fire of their own.

"While men walk this path, I shall remain young," Slim read softly.

Jess shuddered involuntarily and recalled equally softly, "Beware the curse …"

"Come on!" Slim commanded decisively. "We are riding home!"

Soon all that remained of their presence was a couple of bent branches where the horses had been tethered. There were no hoof-prints nor the mark of any boot. Bushes and small trees disguised the lonely ruin and the glowing words faded into the stone from which they had come. Silence and stillness filled the clearing where only the faintest trace of perfume lingered.

It was some time later that they came across the first skeleton.

**t – t – t – t – t**

They might have passed it by, had not a pheasant got up under the horses' hooves, causing them both to startle and shy. Their riders did the human equivalent as they made out the worn bones by the side of the path, scarcely distinguishable from the fallen branches around them.

It would have been courteous and kindly to give these poor remnants a decent grave, but they had no spade nor any other means of digging. After pausing respectfully to acknowledge the passage of this human soul, they rode on again.

It was on coming across the fourth skeleton that Jess remarked, "That's odd."

Slim looked at him, surprised at the comment. It was hardly an original observation, given that forest paths were not usually ornamented at intervals by human remains. "What is?"

"Well, this un ain't been lyin' nearly as long as the other three. Y' can see the bones ain't so weathered. Can't have been an ambush, like we thought."

"True," Slim agreed.

The next one was in a state of mummification, dried out by the elements, but not yet reduced to bones. And the one after that still had rags of clothing about it.

"What we gonna do if we come across a fresh body?" Jess asked in worried tones.

"Not much we can do." Slim was not happy at the lack of respect, but it was the truth. "We're in a wood. Even if we could dig, the ground's full of roots and we'd never get it buried deep enough to make any difference."

Fortunately the next body was actually alive. Or perhaps not so fortunately.

They had reached the very edge of the wood when they saw a bent figure, sitting propped up against a tree. On closer inspection, it proved to be a very old man, his white beard and hair long and flowing, his clothes threadbare and stained with moss and leaves. He struggled to his feet, seeming only able to keep upright with the support of the trunk behind him.

"You're riding out!"

They both took off their hats and Slim replied politely, "Good evening. Yes, we're riding home. Can we –"

"You're riding out of the wood!" the old man croaked.

"Yes. Can we help - "

The old man shook his head. He looked dazed and dumbfounded. "Two young men. Riding out of the Deadwood."

"Yes. We rode in. And now we're riding out again."

The old man launched himself into action with a vigorous push against the tree, muttering: "I must tell the others! Never happened before. Two _young_ men riding out! Must tell the others!" Before they could do or say anything, he tottered off with extraordinary rapidity along the border of the forest.

Slim and Jess exchanged puzzled looks. There did not seem to be a great deal they could do, since the old fellow clearly knew where he was going.

"What others?" Slim mused as they turned their horses and headed for the known road.

As if in answer, the old man's voice drifted melancholy on a breath of winter wind: "No-one makes it through this wood, going out as he came in."

They rode on in silence, glad to be following a trail they knew in each other's company. Whatever had befallen in the Deadwood, the trust between them remained the same.

It was not until much later that Jess observed thoughtfully: "Y'know, there were a lot of old men in that town," Then he gave Slim a long look and his mouth quirked in the familiar grin. "I guess they just didn't have a loyal and forgivin' friend to ride through the Deadwood with them!"

"Yeah," Slim agreed wholeheartedly. "Nor one they could rely on to help them resist temptation." Then he said, for the final time, "Let's go home."

.

* * *

_._

_Notes_

_Acknowledgement:_

Inspiration for this story and the old man's warning at the end of it come from _The Ballad of Cursed Anna _(Jonathan Kelly). Another similar poem about the uncanny effect of woods is _The Terrible Path _by Brian Patten.


	3. Chapter 3

.

.

**At the heart**

'This is the hour of magic, when the Moon

with her right wand has charmed the tallest tree

to stand stone-still with all his million leaves!

I feel around me things I cannot see …'

_The hour of magic_, W. H. Davies

.

The north wind screeched and shook the tops of the trees so that they writhed like living things. It had torn all the clouds from the sky, leaving only luminous deepening twilight, like a fathomless pool into which the unwary world was falling. When the gale stilled momentarily it was as if deep water blotted out all other sounds.

Intermittent beams of the rapidly falling sun touched Jess and Traveller every now and then with a halo of gold as they picked out the way through the trees. Jess was leaning down slightly, as he often did when tracking, his eyes intently covering both the ground and the surroundings in swift comprehensive glances. They were in unknown territory and Jess would take no chances with their safety.

Andy grinned to himself, thinking affectionately that Jess's caring friendship was worth far more than gold – it was beyond price, even if it was composed of a very human mixture unlike the purity of precious metal. Andy's mount Cyclone, on the other hand, needed no gilding of his golden coat and deserved its value far less than Jess and Traveller. Andy was fiercely loyal to his pony but also honest in admitting that the animal was not always an asset. It was at least partly Cyclone's fault that they were on this trail in the first place!

A series of mishaps had begun when Traveller picked up a stone and they had had to dismount to deal with it. While Jess and Andy's attention was elsewhere, Cyclone's mischievous curiosity lead him to get entangled in a thorn thicket. It was only after a prickly and prolonged struggle that they managed to free him and by then they had already lost a lot of time. This was compounded by first encountering a minor landslip which completely blocked the trail they had intended to take and then, on the necessary diversion, having to ride miles upstream in order to find a safe ford across a particularly swift-flowing river. They were not exactly lost but they were well out of their way in unfamiliar and dauntingly gloomy territory.

Jess pulled Traveller to a halt in one of the increasingly rare clearings. He was looking up at the sky, from which the turbulent wind had driven every cloud. Andy rode alongside him and halted too.

"What's up, Jess?" For some reason he felt almost compelled to whisper.

"Just checkin'," Jess replied reassuringly. "It's too easy to go astray in woods like these. If we can see exactly where the sun's settin', we know which direction we're headin'."

"Home, I hope!" Andy tried to comment lightly on their predicament, but it was a heart-felt wish.

"Home's that way." Jess had finished his perusal of the heavens and pointed decisively to the route they should pursue. "Let's keep movin' while there's light."

Light did not last much longer. It was soon obvious they would not even make it out of the forest, never mind get home that night. Andy kept quiet, not wanting to voice his fears about their circumstances. He'd yearned after a thrilling life on the open trail often enough – now he was getting a taste of its no less exciting but much more threatening aspects. The trail twisted and turned through the trees, each time seeming to divert them further off their true course. The wind had become sporadic, sometimes hardly a breath, then suddenly gusting violently to rattle and hiss through the boughs, stirring up a storm of leaves which flung jagged edges into their faces. The trees swayed madly on each side of them, stretching long arms and sharp fingers across their way until they felt as if they were forcing their way forward instead of following an actual path. It became more and more difficult to make out the way ahead.

Andy was not surprised therefore when Jess called another halt on the edge of the next clearing they came across. It was more than a clearing, really. They had been climbing the shoulder of a mountain for some time and so had arrived at a place where a steep outcropping of rock made a deep curve, forming a shadowy bowl in the hillside some forty or fifty feet across and equally as deep. All around the edge, trees stood up against the sky like a spiky fringe drawn in charcoal on a silver-blue canvas. Their bare limbs stretched gnarled fingers out in every direction against the luminous sky.

As if the elements were mimicking human actions, the moment they halted the wind dropped and utter stillness fell across tree and mountain and clearing. The silence was so dense that it was almost palpable, a heavy blanket pressing down on the motionless travelers.

"There'll be some kind of shelter down there," Jess remarked matter-of-factly, as if the place and the atmosphere did not affect him at all. "Under the cliffs, if nothing else. Come on."

He urged Traveller towards the downwards track which led into the deep hollow of the bowl and Andy followed reluctantly. He kept trying to tell himself he was just imagining things. That exhaustion and the mishaps along their way were playing on his nerves. That nature was behaving in a perfectly normal way which he had experienced hundreds of times before. After all, it was not as if he'd never had to spend a night camping outdoors on the trail – just that such excursions had almost always been in milder seasons and reassuringly near home. Now they were alone, miles from anywhere, at the falling of the year.

The path downwards was narrow. Very narrow. Jess stopped again and surveyed it carefully in the less than ideal light. The sky was clear but the last rays of the sun had faded, the stars were not yet at their full strength and there would be no moon for hours tonight.

_It's not so dark! _Andy told himself firmly. _You've seen darker nights than this. _To which his treacherous thoughts replied sardonically: _Yeah, from the safety of the ranch house!_

Jess had come to a decision. "We'll walk the horses down. I'm gonna go in front and let Trav to follow me on a real loose rein. He's surer on his own than with me tryin' to guide him. What about Cyclone?" He was perfectly capable of deciding how to handle the palomino, but it was Andy's horse and Jess wanted the youngster to have the experience of working out how best to tackle a situation like this.

Andy considered carefully and didn't rush his reply. Presently he said, "I think I should lead him. He's not got Traveller's experience and he needs some control to steady him."

An affirmative nod greeted this decision. Jess dismounted and took hold of the very end of Traveller's reins. Andy followed suit, but kept a firm hold on Cyclone's bridle.

"Maybe don't hold him too fierce," Jess suggested. "He needs to choose his way, even if you're guidin' him."

"OK." Andy gave the pony a little more play on the reins and was rewarded with a toss of Cyclone's shapely head and a couple of snorts. The palomino didn't fancy the path any more than his rider did.

"All set? Then take it slow and give us some space so you can both see. Let's go."

The descent was every bit as frightening as it looked. Not only was the path narrow, it was crisscrossed with shadows which came from the trees clinging to the surfaces above and below them and in places spearing up from the path itself. These were not trees like the giants above, which grew out of the rock-face, their mighty roots somehow grasping the stone wall and splitting it to provide both an anchorage and a source of nourishment. This was disconcerting enough, as if at any moment their buttress-like roots, which seemed to grasp the looming cliff with precarious hold, could be torn out and send them crashing down on those reckless enough to pass below. Yet, even with this threat literally hanging over them, in some ways the smaller trees were more sinister. Their thin branches, akin to malnourished arms, reached out for sustenance, their lean trunks twisted into macabre shapes as if tortured by hunger. Like scrawny feral beasts, they were just waiting to pounce from the shadows the moment you had passed.

Andy forced himself to concentrate on the path and on his pony. _He was not some little kid to be scared of the dark and a few mangy trees!_

At last they made the floor of the bowl without accident. The horses were both snorting with relief and their riders heaved reciprocal sighs as they let out the breath they had been tensely holding. Jess halted once more, letting them all relax after the nerve-wracking descent and allowing his eyes to adjust to the increased darkness. He gave Traveller an affectionate slap on the neck as thanks for not treading on his heels. Andy was making much of Cyclone and Jess was proud of the way the boy had conducted his pony down such a difficult descent.

"Well done," he complimented softly. "Now let's see where we can get comfortable for the night."

_Comfortable! _Andy wanted to laugh aloud, but something told him quietness was safer. _Jess had spent plenty of nights like this on his own. Just got to follow his example. And it was lucky they had each other for company._

As it turned out, it was very lucky indeed.

The place where they were to spend the night gradually became easier to see as they grew accustomed to the shadows. It was obvious that the hollow was man-made, not natural. Once men had tried to quarry here. Once the steep rock-face surrounding it had been worked and shaped with tools. Now it towered above the humans, a grim, dark, overhanging cliff. Looking up, they could see that work had ceased many, many years ago. The trees had long ago reconquered and reclaimed it as their own. Below the cliff and the trees, it was curiously hard to make out the exact lie of the land.

"Can you stay with the horses?" Jess requested. "I'll have a closer look, find the best shelter. There may be an overhang or a cave, could be the entrance to a mine even."

"Sure." Andy worked hard to keep his voice resolute and calm. Somehow the idea of a cave or a mine was distinctly unappealing. And the ease with which the shadows swallowed Jess up …

_Heck! Why did he have to use the word 'swallow'?_

Even the solid bulk of Traveller and Cyclone did not save him from feeling horribly alone. Part of him didn't want to take his eyes off the shadows until Jess emerged safely from them; the other part of him was so peopling those shadows with imaginary monsters that he never wanted to look at them again. Determined to live up to his dreams of independence, Andy reminded himself again that he was not a little kid. Panic was not going to help.

_Panic? Strange – he remembered Slim reading to him long ago, telling him about where the word came from, about the god of the forests who controlled every sound, every movement. Great! Now it was even worse!_

But there were no sounds. Only the thick silence, as if it were a solid substance filling the hollow in the cliffs. He could not even hear Jess's footsteps. The horses stood like statues, their breath misting in the chill air without a murmur. Andy felt as if he had been frozen to the ground, unable to move a hand or foot to save himself from whatever lurked in the shadows.

_So don't look at them! _He wrenched his eyes away, determinedly surveying the rest of the area, telling himself he ought to do his part in making sure what the place was like.

There was a tree.

A solitary tree.

Behind him.

Between him and the opening of the downward path which they must take to reach home.

It was like no tree Andy had ever seen before. Its trunk was not straight but coiled upwards in a spiral fashion. Its branches undulated in curves which seemed to make the very wood ripple. Its slender leaves were clustered together in small bunches, for all the world like the fingers of many hands. A silver glow lit the undersides as if the moon gilded them. But there was no moon. They swayed gently back and forth although there was no wind.

Andy's breath caught in his throat, which was a good job, otherwise he might have screamed. And he knew instinctively there were good reasons for not disturbing the hush of this place.

_It was just a tree! A tree, for goodness sake!_

But it held his horrified gaze as if it had eyes boring into his soul. Andy stood transfixed, wrenched out of his own time and space into somewhere primeval and infinitely powerful, long before humans had ever walked this land.

"Sure don't know what they were quarryin' for here," Jess commented right behind him. "There ain't a settlement for miles and it'd be a crazy place t' set up house."

Taken by surprise, Andy gasped in alarm.

Jess gave him a shrewd look, but tactfully refrained from commenting. Instead he said, "I found somewhere with a good bit more protection." The significance of this was only to strike them much later. "Let's get the horses over there and settle down."

He turned away, tugging Traveller behind him, pausing only to let the horses drink at a shallow pool which had formed in the middle of the bowl. Andy followed with Cyclone – half reluctant, half eager. He dared not look over his shoulder.

The protection Jess had found was at the very back of the hollow and it did indeed look as if it had been formed for just such a purpose.

"It's like a little castle!" Andy exclaimed in astonishment at finding such a structure in such a remote place. A very solid wall of hewn rock and fallen stone had been erected in a curve out from the cliff-face. It was about ten feet high and the top looked as though someone had tried to form proper battlements with small gaps to shoot through – 'crenels', Andy had once heard them called.

_But wild creatures would not attack such a structure. And humans could easily assault it from above. W__hat else would anyone be shooting at out here?_

The wall had clearly been mended and reinforced over a long period of time and was in good repair, although Andy noticed numerous places on the face of the stonework which were scarred with deep curving grooves, like the marks of a lash.

_What kind of onslaught had the wall faced? Had those inside been safe?_

Jess had inspected inside, so Andy had to believe there were no nasty surprises waiting for them – it just looked like there might be. Or maybe the surprise was outside, because leaning against the wall by the entrance was a very solidly constructed set of planks, a sort of 'door' with which to barricade it.

_Why a barricade? _

Andy tried hard not to show all these worrying questions going round in his head. Jess was his usual practical self and the horses too seemed quite calm as they filed through the narrow opening, although usually they'd have been hobbled outside where there was at least some grass.

"We're gonna need their heat tonight," Jess told Andy, somewhat grimly. He gave a sideways tilt of his head in the direction of the sky. It was cold and clear and almost colorless yet growing darker by the minute.

"What about getting wood for a fire?" Even as he said it, Andy felt massively afraid and was sure that he should not even have thought such a thing, let alone spoken it out loud.

Jess shook his head. He continued to look grim. "There's no fallen wood. We've nothing to cut any green wood and it doesn't –" He stopped abruptly.

A strange scratching had sounded faintly outside, even as he spoke. Like claws tearing gashes in the profound silence of the hollow.

Jess stilled for a moment, his head cocked, his eyes on the doorway. Andy looked in the same direction, his worried gaze sweeping what he could see of the floor of the bowl. There was nothing untoward, except the gently vibrating branches of the strange finger-tree. Andy gulped, uncertain whether to draw Jess's attention to it or not, but his companion was already moving on to make preparations for the night.

To this end, Jess seized the 'door' and manhandled it over the entrance. As he did so, Andy could see that the back, which would face outside, was covered with the same curving gouges as the stonework. Once it was in place, Jess said "Give me a hand, will y'" and bent to pick up one of the two stout pieces of timber, which slotted into stone sockets in the wall, and were obviously designed to hold the 'door' in place. Andy jumped to help him, but even when the barricade was safely in place and fully secured, it didn't make him feel any better.

"Jess?"

"Yeah, Andy?"

"I don't like this place."

"Ain't lovin' it m'self, Andy, but it's only shelter we got and the temperatures gonna drop something fierce tonight. It's the best we're can do."

Andy was struggling with the shame of admitting his fears and his eyes were as downcast as his spirits. He felt he had let Jess down, failed to live up to the lessons his friend had taught him about survival in the wild. No less important, though less immediate, was a sense that his elder brother would not approve of the wild imaginings which had been plaguing Andy. It was a shock, therefore, when Jess broke into these gloomy thoughts, laying a hand on Andy's arm and causing the youngster to look up sharply.

"Andy!"

"Yeah?"

"A man who doesn't fear anything usually ends up dead of his ignorance."

"Huh?"

"It's OK to be afraid," Jess explained quietly and in just the same matter-of-fact tones as he had used for everything else on this misadventure. "What isn't OK is to let it stop you thinkin' or actin' – whichever y' need to do."

Andy heaved in a sighing breath. Some of the weight lifted from his heart. _Jess understood. And it was alright – OK to be afraid. _But he was even more determined that his fears should not be imaginary, only visible ones. It was not long before he was to discover that not all real fears can be seen: some are only felt. But for now he pulled himself together and focused on what he did best: "Let's get the animals settled."

Jess gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder and they both set about unsaddling and feeding their mounts from the grain they carried. Feeding themselves was nearly as simple: it was beef jerky, slightly stale bread, an apple each and cold water. All the while it was getting darker and darker and colder and colder.

"Coldest time's just around dawn," Jess said cheerfully. "We'll save the fire till later."

"What fire?" Andy demanded suspiciously. "You said we couldn't get any wood."

"That's right, I did," Jess affirmed, "but wood ain't the only thing that'll burn."

Andy looked around even more suspiciously and said, "I hope you ain't meanin' to burn our gear, Jess?"

"Aren't meaning to," Jess corrected, sounding extraordinarily like Slim, then continued with total disregard for grammar: "No, I ain't, Andy. There's some other fuel in here – coal."

"Coal?" Andy sounded rather shocked. He knew what it was, of course, but around Laramie it was used very sparingly and the only place it was found in any quantity was the railway depot.

"Yeah." Jess pointed at a small heap which almost blended with the rock-face. He murmured almost to himself, "Don't know what it's doin' here, how it got here. Nearest place where there's any real mining is Colorado."

"Will we be able to get it going?" Andy asked uncertainly, for the cold darkness was beginning to press upon him even worse than before.

"Sure. But we ain't usin' all of it, so we'll need to be careful."

"Why? What's wrong with using it all?"

Jess gave his young companion a long and serious look. "Someone took a lot of trouble to get coal to this place so that people who came after could have a fire. If we use it all, what happens to the next lot who have to overnight here?"

"Coal so we wouldn't have to use wood." Andy gave a barely suppressed shudder.

"So we use half. But not now," Jess decided. "We've got the little oil lantern to give us light and a bit of heat. We'll save the fire till it gets colder."

"It can get colder?" Andy questioned with a valiant grin.

"You bet your new saddle it can! So shake out your bedroll and button up your coat. I'll lay the fire, but we'll wait to light it."

Andy busied himself getting their bedding sorted out, while Jess dealt with the fire and primed the lantern. There was a small stone-edged fire-pit which had clearly been used before, so Andy shook out the blankets between it and the rock wall which gave them some rather chilly shelter.

"Guess we need something warmer to lean against for a few hours," Jess pointed out and when Andy looked suitably skeptical, he just grinned, clicked his fingers to his faithful mount and said: "Down, Trav. Stay down."

The horse obligingly folded himself to the ground like a strong, warm, sweet-smelling and rather hairy bolster.

"Come on." Jess extended an arm and Andy was thankful to be drawn close to his side as they huddled in their combined blankets and leaned against Traveller. The lantern, though small, was a bright pinprick of steady light, where both within and without the strange little fortress the darkness ruled.

"Light drives back darkness," Jess remarked, observing Andy's continuing tension. "Ain't nothing darkness can do, not on its own."

"It might get blown out," Andy pointed to the lantern nervously.

"No wind. And we're in shelter. It's designed for rougher use than this."

"OK."

They sat in silence for a while. It was then Andy discovered how still Jess could sit when he chose to. Usually, at home, he would occupy his hands with some task – mending gear, smoothing fishing poles, polishing harness, whittling. Tonight he sat utterly motionless, as if he had become one with the earth and the air and the sky around him. But not one with the darkness. Andy could never see Jess siding with something evil, unless there was absolutely no other action possible.

"Darkness ain't bad," Jess remarked, as if he had heard Andy's thoughts. "Not itself. It's what people use it for, a disguise or a shield for things that'd be wrong in the light."

"And for things we imagine," Andy added honestly. "And I still don't like this place."

"I've been in places less comfortable and a good deal more dangerous," Jess said dryly, "But God gave us instincts to keep us safe, Andy, so y' should take notice of feelings about things and people and places."

"This place isn't friendly."

"No, it ain't," Jess stated truthfully. "But we come here as strangers, we don't belong. So we need to show we're respectful, but we ain't over-fearful."

Andy thought of all the tales and legends and even some of the preaching he had heard. "But if something's dark and powerful and bad, how can we beat it?"

As he spoke, that faint sound came again – the set of claws tearing slashes through the air of the hollow. Andy could feel the torn wisps ghosting past his cheek, despite the wall surrounding them.

Jess put a comforting arm round Andy's shoulders. "Y'know, Andy, when I get confused about what's evil and what to do about it, I always think of my ma."

"You do?"

"Yeah. If we were scared of something bad as kids, she always used to say: 'When you invite the angels to sit by the fire, the devil quits up the chimney'."

"Good drives out evil."

"Yeah, that's about the size of it. So when things get bad, y' recall the good things. Things which made a difference t' you or t' life." Andy gave a nod of understanding, but before he could respond, Jess went on: "Like right now, I'm remembering the first time I came t' Laramie. I was feelin' pretty low and mad as a wet hen!"

This made Andy chuckle, because he'd seen times when Jess got really angry and a wet hen couldn't hold a candle to it!

"I rode into town and got shot at. Then y' elder brother drove me off his land. And worse than that, I was huntin' down a friend, a friend who betrayed me, robbed me and hurt me so bad I wasn't aimin' to trust anyone for a long, long time."

"Pete Morgan?" Andy recalled the name and the photograph.

"Yeah. I was in a real bad place inside my head and my heart. That's how evil creeps in sometimes – when y' hurtin' so bad and everything seems t' be goin' against you. And then I rode into a relay station and someone welcomed me – shared with me the creatures which were most precious to them – gave me food and rest – and an offer of friendship, not just for the moment, but on the road ahead. Remember?"

Andy nodded again, blushing a little. "I remember. Did it really make all that difference?" He was recalling his own feelings at the time, the instant attraction he'd felt to Jess's powerful independence and ability to go his own way successfully. He'd had a really bad case of hero-worship but now, while he still admired Jess for just the same qualities, he also understood that they came at a cost. And he knew so much more about the human, not the hero – Jess's fierce loyalty, his short temper, his generosity, his bad habits, his sense of humor – so much which he had not perceived at first.

"It certainly did," Jess assured him. "And better, you stuck to your welcome and made it possible for Slim and me t'avoid killin' each other and become friends." He chuckled in amused recollection of how their friendship had started. "It could all have gone bad, but it didn't. And it didn't because you, an' then Slim an' Jonesy, are decent, honest people who gave a drifter the benefit of the doubt."

"In the end," Andy grinned. He had to admit there were times it had looked pretty unlikely. A thought struck him. "There was Carlin to deal with too. Almost like the good came out of us 'cause he was so bad."

"That was evil really tryin' t'invade your home," Jess agreed.

As he spoke, the sound came again. Nearer this time. As if those claws were dragging something in long gouges through the earth. Andy's head went up, his ears straining to interpret what he was hearing and the skin on the back of his neck prickly as though the sound ran rough fingers over it.

Beside him, Jess continued quietly, "I reckon your ma and pa must have been real good people, seein' the loving home they made and the way you an' Slim turned out."

"They were!" Andy told him fervently, glad to have the memory of his strong, loving parents stirred up at this moment. "I always knew they'd do anything to keep me safe. They were willing to risk themselves, even die for me."

"That's a good thing to know," Jess said and because he saw Andy smiling, he asked, "What are you thinking of now?"

"Well, it's easy to say someone is willing to die for you, but my ma really did risk her life for me in a funny kind of way."

"You gonna tell me?"

"It happened up at the lake," Andy began. "I was about four, I think, and I hadn't learned to swim yet." He paused and they both laughed at another memory of Jess claiming he had never been taught to swim. "Anyway, it was a real windy day, with great gusts which were stirring up the lake into waves – a bit like today, only it was late spring. I don't really recall what happened, but I got told the tale often afterwards. Pa and Slim were at work unblocking one of the inlet streams. Ma and Jonesy had driven up with some lunch for them and while they were busy setting things out, I wandered off to the edge of the lake. The next thing there came a great gust of wind which toppled me into the water – deep water for a little child. I must have shouted in surprise because Ma didn't hesitate. She knew his back meant Jonesy couldn't swim, so she just plunged into the lake, fully dressed as she was. She couldn't swim much either, but she struggled her way through the deep water and grabbed me. The only thing which kept her floating was that her shirts were trapping enough air to hold us up till Pa managed to reach us. He was hopping mad and yelled at her for even thinking about going into the lake, but Ma just told him straight, 'Well, Matthew, it's about time you taught us both to swim properly!'"

"And did he?"

"Yeah. He was a good teacher and very patient, because I was so frightened of going in the water at first. But in the end he helped me to be confident and then I started to enjoy it."

"And that's why you were so patient and good at teachin' me," Jess commented.

Andy grinned. "You didn't actually need teaching, but you pretended to be a much worse pupil than I ever was. Who did teach you to swim, Jess?"

"Hard to tell," Jess answered. "I must have been just a little 'un, like you ..." His voice trailed away and the shadow of an old pain swept over his face, hardening his jawline and narrowing his lips and eyes.

At the same time, the scratching, grating sound came again, much closer and more powerful. It felt as if a shudder ran through the earth beneath them and up their very spines.

Jess heaved in a deep breath and deliberately relaxed as he pushed away the darkness around them and of his own memories. "There were a lot of us," he went on explaining. "Big kids, nearly grown. Little 'uns and babies. And all sizes and ages in between. So there are a lot of teachers to choose from."

"Your ma must have been kept busy," Andy observed in awe.

"Oh, they weren't all hers, even though she was used to feedin' them. Feedin' the starvin' hordes, she used to call it. I'm the middle one of nine children. Then there were all the cousins and all the kids belongin' to the ranch hands, quite a few of them Mexican. We were like a tribe of kids – just family together, no matter who our parents were – laughin' and jokin' an' chatterin' away in a language that was all our own, a mixture of English and Spanish and a few words of Apache, just to show off – and runnin' wild the whole time - or rather mostly ridin' wild." He paused with a reminiscent grin. "Of course the big kids did stuff the little 'uns weren't up to, didn't always want us taggin' along."

"I know," Andy agreed with feeling. "Slim was always way ahead of me in everything."

There was a sudden rattle outside the little enclosure. Falling stones from the cliff-face, perhaps, or something being ground out of it.

"I guess there's a reason for that," Jess said, "but I reckon neither you nor I would want to admit we couldn't do something, right? Not when we were kids, anyway." When Andy nodded, Jess told him: "I was lucky, I suppose. You remember my cousin, Cal? He used to take pity on me and let me ride with him – in front when I was almost too little to straddle a pony and then clingin' on behind him when I got bigger. He never left me behind until I was able to ride with them on my own pony. Never took me into real danger, either, if he could help it, even if it meant he couldn't join in everything the others were doin'."

"That must have been hard for him," Andy responded. "I bet he got teased about it, didn't he?"

"Sure did," Jess agreed, "but you've met Cal. He's just all good nature and practically nothing riles him."

"It's good to have somebody stand up for you ..."

Andy was lost in another memory and this one only made him feel more acutely than ever the inexorable power which could bear down on you when you were smaller and weaker than it was. Whatever was outside, he knew it was more powerful, more huge and much, much older than the two puny humans cowering behind their wall.

Except that Jess Harper didn't cower.

Yet all at once Andy was suddenly less confident. Jess stirred and looked up at the sky, where the bright new moon had finally made its appearance, although its light did not reach the floor of the bowl. Andy looked up too – far, far up the looming rock-face. The chill moonlight gilded the towering stone above them and painted lines of cold fire on the contours of the mighty roots and the towering bodies they sustained and supported.

"The eyes! Jess! There are eyes up there! Looking at us!"

The giant trees had begun to reveal a life and personality of their own. Their huge bodies balanced on twisted prehensile legs, their crooked arms reached out in every direction, twiggy hair surmounted long, gnarled faces in which were set deep, dark glowing eyes.

"I reckon it's time to light the fire," Jess said calmly, getting to his feet and dumping his share of the blankets on Andy for a moment. He had already placed the kindling he carried under a small bed of coals, so all that was necessary was to strike a match and get it going. The brief flame sparked brilliant in the surrounding darkness. It lit the lean planes of Jess's face as if they had been carved from lucent stone and struck an answering spark from the blue brilliance of his eyes.

The angels might not visibly be sitting beside their fire, but Andy knew Jess was holding in his soul the good which humans were capable of sharing with each other. It was like an invisible warmth, deeper and stronger than any fire, to which Andy stretched out his hands and his heart.

Jess urged Traveller to stand, since the horse had been lying down so long, then settled back down beside Andy, pulling the blankets snug around them both. "You got your collar buttoned up, Andy?" he asked in concerned tones.

"Quit actin' like my ma, Jess! 'Course I've got it turned up and buttoned too."

"Fine. I guess y' can be let out on y' own then," Jess grinned equably.

"I'm glad I'm not on my own now, though," Andy admitted. "I'm really glad you're here, Jess."

"I'm glad we're here together too – even if we'd both rather be someplace else," Jess responded candidly. "But why did y' need someone to stand up for you, Andy?"

Andy was silent, wondering if he could give voice to one of the worst moments in his life. As he hesitated, the sound from outside reached the walls of their fortress and he heard the clawed hands rake across the stone, seeking to tear it apart. The screech of it was painful to the ears, yet came from inside the head rather than through outward hearing. The ground seemed to shudder again, sending a ripple up ten feet of solid stone.

An answering convulsive shiver went right through Andy too. But Jess reached out an arm again and hugged him hard. "Tell me!"

"It was after Pa died. Slim came back from the war and then ..." A sob stuck in his throat. "Ma died very soon after."

"She missed y' Pa."

"I guess she did. She always believed in him."

Jess nodded in understanding. The recovery of the wrecked wagons, once loaded with stolen gold, which Matthew Sherman had been forced to guide had led to the discovery also of the Rebel officer's journal. This proved the guilt of Major John Ellis in planning the theft and completely exonerated Andy's pa from accusations of treachery, resulting in a posthumous medal for him. But until so very recently, the Sherman family had had to carry the opprobrium of those who thought Matthew was guilty.

"But other people didn't believe him?"

Andy's head bowed for a moment and he muttered, "They sure didn't!" Then he went on more strongly, "But Slim said Shermans were true and trustworthy. He said it didn't matter how folks talked – it mattered how we behaved. So we had to hold our heads up and look folk straight in the eye and never let them make us act like Pa'd done anything wrong."

Jess's heart was wrenched with pity for the grief which both of Matthew Sherman's sons had had to carry. There was even more pity for Andy, a young boy who had lived through the experience of losing both parents so soon and in such circumstances with only Jonesy to lean on. Much as Jess admired the integrity which the brothers had sustained in the face of those who tried to shame them, it was a huge task for a child as young as Andy must have been. Slim's advice was excellent, but he was already an adult and an adult seasoned by war to boot. He obviously had little recollection of the thoughts and needs of a young child.

Andy was steeling himself to continue. "One day we'd gone into town to pick up supplies. Slim drove the wagon round to the Livery, so I could water the horses while he went to the Telegraph office to pick up the mail. I'd seen to the horses and I was just getting back on to the seat when somebody grabbed me from behind. I was shoved up against the Livery fence. It was three of the big boys from school –"

Andy stopped because fear hit him again with just as much force as it had at the time. As the horror of his experience seized him afresh, the danger outside in the darkness drew strength from it. With great curving slashes, claws of power were digging deep into the stones of the wall and shaking the wood of the door. It could not hold out! Evil would conquer their defenses and overwhelm them!

"How old were you then?" Jess asked calmly, his arm still firm round Andy's shoulders.

Andy gulped and forced himself to go on with his tale. "I was rising eight. I hadn't grown much then, so I was pretty small – small enough for them to reckon they could do what they liked."

"They attacked you?"

"It was just pushing and shoving and name calling at first. Saying Pa was a traitor. That he deserved to die. That we ought to be run out of town. I was praying I wouldn't cry, wouldn't let Slim down! That I would stay true to Pa."

"But I guess it was difficult? You wished he'd never gotten involved with that crazy adventure?"

Andy looked at Jess in astonishment. "Ye – yes. I felt awful, but I couldn't help wishing he'd stayed out of it and I didn't have to defend his honor. I betrayed him!"

"No y' didn't!" Jess told him firmly. "What happened wasn't your choice, but you had to bear the consequences, even though you were too young to really understand, weren't you?"

"Yeah. I just wanted someone, some grown-up, to stop it all, make it go away. I wasn't brave and honorable - a soldier like Slim."

"You were eight!" Jess reminded him. "And even now, y' rememberin' how it felt to have no-one to stand with you."

"Yeah," Andy said again. "I just kept hoping and praying. And then somebody did come along. I heard hooves, several horses, and some soldiers rode into the yard ..."

"And?" Jess prompted, when the story seemed to have come to a halt.

"And they did nothing!" Andy burst out, all the pent-up anger and anguish flooding out of him. He felt one with the darkness outside then, with the clawing evil which was gathering power and towering up to loom over the wall. He could see the many-fingered hands, reaching out to rend and destroy. In that moment, he was not sure whether he was joining in with the destruction or being destroyed himself. "One of them even encouraged the boys, goaded them on, so they hit me and knocked me to the ground and were kicking me! I'll never forget that man. He had a sharp chin and his nose was long and slightly hooked. His face looked hollow and his eyebrows were arched to a point. His eyes were very narrow and pale blue. He sounded like he was really enjoying egging them on."

Jess drew in a breath. The description was so clear – it had to be Ellis! His conduct to Andy alone argued so. Jess was deeply glad the man had got what was coming to him but, if he could have, Jess would have administered his own punishment for the torment inflicted on Andy.

"But you came through it," he pointed out encouragingly. "That wasn't the end, not the whole story."

"No." Andy had almost forgotten the ending, so absorbed had he become in reliving the evil of the experience. "I was curled up in a ball, trying to keep my arms over my head. I thought they were going to kill me. Then another voice spoke and ordered the boys to leave off. It was so commanding they did. The new man demanded to know what was going on. The other one, the one who'd been encouraging them, said it was a just punishment for one of a traitor's brood. I struggled up and yelled at him 'My Pa ain't never betrayed anyone!'. Then I saw that the man who'd stopped it was an army officer, although I didn't know what rank he was. He was glaring at the soldier and he looked real contemptuous, as if that man was the traitor, not my Pa. And he told him to be quiet. He said –" Andy paused and drew the recollection around him like a shield of light and goodness, "He said 'Matthew Sherman had an exemplary reputation. Nothing was ever proven against him and a man is innocent until evidence can convict him!'" And he told the boys not to try anything again or he'd hear about it and then he gave the order to ride out."

"So someone did stand by you. Someone y' didn't expect, but who respected your pa, even if he didn't know him."

"He did!" The memory was growing and glowing and for the first time, Andy felt more gratitude to the stranger than he did fear and loathing for his attackers.

"It's a great thing to have family and friends look after you," Jess said, "but it's even more powerful and wonderful when a stranger shows the same care without even knowin' you."

"I remember now," Andy affirmed, "and I'm never going to forget the second man's goodness, 'cause it overcame what was attacking me." His face lit up with the memory and his heart was lighter than it had been all that night.

"And don't forget either," Jess added, "like I said at the beginning – I was a stranger to you, but that's what you did for me. You stuck to me when Slim got mad. You'd learnt to believe in people somewhere along the way."

Andy nodded vigorously. "That soldier. The good one. He gave me an example but I never realized it till now."

Jess nodded in approval and empathy. He gave Andy a few moments to come to terms with his new understanding, then, seeking to lighten the mood a little, he quipped, "Mind you, it ain't nothing compared to feedin' me when I was starvin'!"

"You're always starving!" Andy told him and, since it was nothing but the utter truth, they both laughed out loud. As the sound echoed round the little walled enclosure a deep reverberating sigh came from outside the walls. It mingled with their shared appreciation and mutual support, filling their companionship with power.

"And you knew how to give a good welcome," Jess chuckled, "and that's worth more'n gold dust to a driftin' man."

Andy ducked his head shyly. "I guess it's down to Ma and Pa's training. They said that hospitality gave you a chance to entertain angels, but I'm not quite sure what they meant."

"It's from the bible," Jess told him, "and it means it's a good thing I'm sitting by your fire."

"Our fire," Andy corrected. "Does that make us both angels?"

"Not yet," Jess grinned, "but I guess we can keep workin' at it."

"Good!" Andy yawned, suddenly overcome by the urge to sleep and no longer fearing anything in the moonlit night.

The next thing he was aware of was waking feeling stiff and cold and smelling the embers of the coal fire and hearing the wind softly shaking the leaves of the forest. He stretched and rolled out of his blankets, finding he was sleeping under Jess's share too. His friend was already up and had removed the door barricade in order to water the horses. Presently he hobbled them so that they could seek their breakfast in the lush grass of the hollow. Breakfast for the humans was simple too: beef jerky, slightly staler bread and no apple.

As they were sitting by the last few glowing coals, drinking cold water in lieu of hot coffee, Andy thought about the night they had survived and the way they had done it. Although he now understood how important it was to hold fast to all the good which you encountered, he still felt the need to explore the experience further: "Why did we feel evil trying to attack us here in this place?"

"Maybe we brought it with us, Andy. The tribes around here say the spirit of the forest was already here – living - whole - long before humans arrived. The people came but they tried to live in harmony with the earth - and then white folks came. We take from the forest – we cut and burn and mine and plough and turn it into something it is not. In many ways, we show our worst in the forest, so perhaps it tries to make us understand where evil comes from."

"Inside people?"

"Mostly. Ain't sayin' there's no other ways, but a lot of it is people and the things they chose to do."

"And the experiences we go through."

"And how we react to them. You can let evil overwhelm y', like it's sweepin' you along with it. Or y' can '_hold fast that which is good_', like the bible says - keep it in mind, like a shield, a protection."

Andy nodded. "And part of that is why you said we had to show respect to the trees?"

"Yeah. They're ancient. Older'n we'll ever be. Wiser in some ways too. They're slow livin' but, 'cause of the way they can use air and water and change earth and rock, much more powerful'n us too."

"So we burn no wood?"

"Not livin' wood. Not here. I guess this is some kind o' sacred place, a place of that power – a place where people found out the hard way that it ain't a good idea to bring the axe and fire to livin' wood. So they tried to pass on the message. They built the wall to keep travelers safe and somehow they brought the coal too."

The message was reinforced shortly after, as they were clearing the little fortress of any trace of their occupation. Andy thought he saw a bee, drowsily bumbling its way along the cliff-face. With winter so close, all insects were far less active and it was unusual for a bee out and about, even though they loved trees. Andy was curious to see what the creature could possibly find of interest on the rocks and was following it closely when he made a discovery.

"Hey, Jess! Come here. There is a cave after all."

Even in daylight, the narrow entrance was hard to spot. Jess re-lit the lantern and used its light to examine what he could see of the cave, before risking disturbing any inhabitants. As it happened the only occupants were some rather annoyed bats, who fluttered past their heads as they squeezed their way in. No-one was going to leave a mysterious cave unexplored!

"Sure glad we didn't meet those last night!" Andy commented with a grin.

"Huh! They were probably flying in and out right over our heads only we don't have the night-sight to see them," Jess pointed out.

"Sure glad we couldn't see them."

The cave was narrow and not very deep, but it did contain a secret.

"See, here's where they got the coal." Jess pointed to a narrow fissure in the back of the cave. Leaning against the wall were a pickaxe, a hammer and a crowbar.

"Looks like they intended to come back," Andy offered.

"Or they intended others to do what they'd done," Jess suggested.

"Well, you're too big to get in there," Andy told him. "I'm gonna turn miner."

"Going to," Jess corrected absently. "OK, if you're willin'."

Some time of strenuous effort passed. It was difficult for Andy to wield the tools in such a confined space, but he knew how much the fire had meant to them in the night. He was determined that they would not leave before they repaid what had been done for them. Whatever strangers might come after them, it was imperative he and Jess made the best preparation for them that they could before they left. A while later they had replenished the coal-heap to their satisfaction.

It was as they were quitting the cave and Jess was about to blow out the lantern, that its narrow beams caught the colors on the cave wall above them. On closer examination, they saw a series of pictures obviously intended to convey meaning.

"It's a warning," Jess said somberly. "See here – people cut wood, they start a fire, the trees move, their branches stretch out, the people are ..."

Neither of them needed to articulate the final fate of the nameless people. It was enough to know that some strangers, so many years ago, had tried to save them from the same fate. A profound gratitude shook them both.

Outside in the daylight, they caught their mounts and saddled them. The hollow was partially roofed with overhanging boughs through which the filtered sunlight painted a dappled pattern on the rich emerald of the grass. The pool lay still and bright as a mirror. There was no wind. The trees were motionless. A deep tranquility lay over the place where they had lived through so much fear.

As they set out on the downward path which would take them on the last stages of their journey home, they rode past the finger-tree, standing rooted exactly where it had been the night before. Its trunk and branches gleamed with a soft sheen and its leaves still shone as if they were lit from below. Now, in the early morning light, its curves and spirals and twists had a subtle beauty of their own. Andy drew Cyclone to a halt for a moment. Some primordial connection between them had purged pain and anger and guilt and grief.

"Thank you," he whispered softly and then rode on.

When he took a last look back, he could see new, deep curving gouges on the stones of the refuge, but the finger-tree was swaying and dipping as if it was dancing for joy in the soft fall sunshine.

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* * *

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Notes

I can't remember now where I saw the 'finger tree', but I remember a vivid sense of its magical essence and giving it its name. The hollow and its trees are a description of one of our abandoned local quarries, and the metamorphosis of the giant tree-folk is taken from Brian Froud's illustrations in _Faeries, _though you may think of ents if you wish.

Thanks to Westfalen for ideas about Andy's memories which I've used in this story.

Coal - Between 1865 and January 1, 2019, more than 11.9 billion short tons of coal has been mined in Wyoming, most of it in the last 20 years. The highest coal production year for Wyoming was 2008, with 466.3 MT mined. (Wyoming State Geological Survey). In the 1870s most coal production was concentrated in the eastern states.

Story references:

Andy's attempts to teach Jess to swim - _Swimming Lesson revised_

Callum Harper – appears in various stories featuring the Ranulfiar (see profile for list)

Matthew Sherman during Civil War – _Starlight Brotherhood_

Some references to the Harper and Sherman families echo ideas in _Fathers' Night_


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